


the light that you shine

by magequisition



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Body Worship, Cunnilingus, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, F/M, First Time, body image issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 22:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5472206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magequisition/pseuds/magequisition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He loves you. The thought passed through her mind even as she wondered if that would be enough for him to move past the sight of her. Where Alistair was hard muscle and smooth planes, Niamh was soft and round, more uneven lumps than the gentle curves of so many of her friends from the circle, with pink lines, reminders of growth spurts past, riddling her pale skin.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	the light that you shine

     Knowing chuckles from Zevran and Leliana followed them as Niamh took Alistair’s hand and led him back to her tent. The flap collapsed behind them with a soft flump as they crawled inside, armour clanking obnoxiously beneath them. Niamh giggled nervously as she began unbuckling the mail attached to her legs, moving them to the side of the tent before lifting her hands to do the same to her breastplate. Alistair’s hand covered hers and she froze.

     “Can I? Help you, I mean?” he asked, his voice low. Niamh took a deep breath to steady herself before nodding.

    _You still have your tunic underneath_ , she thought to herself. _He’s seen you in that before._ His hand slid around her arms, unbuckling the bracers and setting them aside before setting to work at the fastenings for her breastplate. It came off easily and he set it with the rest.

     “Is it my turn now?” she asked playfully, giggling when she saw his cheeks redden. She sat up on her knees and leaned forward to brush a light kiss over his lips, her hand resting on his cheek.

     “Alistair. I’ve helped you with this before. This is nothing new.” she said softly. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she rest her forehead against his.

     Alistair nodded. “Of course. Yes.” He took her hand in his and squeezed it lightly. “I do want this,” he said, his amber eyes meeting hers with a look of such genuine love and desire she was sure she felt all of her bones melt away. She kissed him once more before sitting back to fumble with the buckles of his armour. Heavy leather slid through metal buckles and she set the pieces aside one by one. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him in the lightweight white shirt he wore under his armour, and she lunged forward to kiss him again to try and hide the blush rising to her cheeks. Her arms came up around his neck as her tongue traced the line of his lips, and his grip on her hips tightened when she pressed through them to deepen the kiss. He tugged gently and she inched forward, rearranging herself slowly to sit on his lap. She could feel him beginning to harden beneath her already, and her hips rolled instinctively against him, eliciting a groan as he tore his lips from hers and pressed his face into her neck.

     “Maker’s breath, Niamh,” he mumbled, his lips grazing her skin before he nipped playfully at the join between her neck and shoulder. Her head fell to the side as she whimpered, the pleasant sharpness of teeth on skin shooting through her. The dampness between her legs increased and she felt her stomach twist in a combination of need and anxiety at the thought that they wouldn’t be able to leave their remaining clothes on for much longer.

      _He loves you_. The thought passed through her mind even as she wondered if that would be enough for him to move past the sight of her. Where Alistair was hard muscle and smooth planes, Niamh was soft and round, more uneven lumps than the gentle curves of so many of her friends from the circle, with pink lines, reminders of growth spurts past, riddling her pale skin.

     Clumsy hands began to play at the hem of her tunic and she froze, jolted from her thoughts by the light tugging at her clothing. His hands stilled.

     “Are you okay, love?” he asked.

     Niamh nodded slowly, unsure how to explain her desire, her desperation to experience this with him — but also her fear, her conviction of being Not Good Enough.

     “What’s the matter?” came the next question. His hands fell from the hem of her tunic but rose immediately to rub her back, a familiar motion that had her head rocking forward to rest on his shoulder. Niamh took a deep breath in an attempt to steady her voice.

     “You might…” she started. Alistair said nothing, simply continuing to rub her back comfortingly. “You might not want to, if you see me.” She trailed a hand along his stomach through his shirt, and he shuddered pleasurably at the contact. “You’re perfect. And I’m, well…” she trailed off, loathe to even say the word. Fat, she thought as tears pricked at her eyes. She clenched her teeth, determined not to let them spill over.

     Alistair’s hands stopped moving, but didn’t move from her back. He waited for a moment before sliding them slowly down her back and around to her sides, careful to keep the barrier of her tunic between his hands and her skin. “You’re what, Niamh?” he asked, slow touches drifting along her sides. Niamh felt herself start to stiffen and she forced her muscles to relax.

    “You can feel it,” she said. Her voice was still muffled against his shoulder.

    “Niamh, look at me,” Alistair said softly. Niamh lifted her head from his shoulder and did as he asked, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “Do you know what I feel?” he asked. She could tell he didn’t actually want an answer, and she waited. “I feel the woman that I have fallen in love with. The woman who is, by some gift of the Maker, allowing me in her tent, to kiss her, to love her. The woman whose voice drives me wild, whose eyes give me hope, whose movements with a staff put all kinds of terribly unproductive thoughts into my mind. I feel a woman who I want to know every inch of, physically, emotionally, and spiritually, so that I can continue finding more things to love. I feel you, my love, and there is not a thing about the shape of your body that could change the way I feel about you, nor that could diminish my desire for you. We will stop, if you are not ready. But if you’ll have me...there’s not a force in Thedas that would stop me from loving every bit of you.” He lifted a hand to her cheek and cupped her face before leaning forward to kiss her, his lips brushing hers tenderly. “This is your call, love. But know that you are the most beautiful woman in Thedas. You needn’t worry that I’ll think anything otherwise.”

     Niamh swallowed hard. Moving her hands from where they fidgeted in her lap, she covered his with them and moved them back to the hem of her tunic. He closed his fingers around the hem and waited until she nodded to move. He lifted the tunic slowly, revealing her skin little by little until he pulled it fully over her head and tossed it to the side. She quivered with both anxiety and anticipation as his hands returned to her body, sliding slowly over her bare skin while wonder dawned on his face. He started with her back, his fingers working their way into her shoulder blades in a short massage before drifting down her spine and settling in the curve of her back. He brushed the skin there lightly and she giggled.

    “Ticklish,” she said, a smile finally breaking through her fear.

     Alistair’s eyes met hers and he smiled. “Sorry, my dear,” he said, placing a light kiss on her nose. His face fell serious again as his hands drifted around her sides, running slowly up and down them. Niamh inhaled sharply and he stilled.

    “Keep going,” she whispered.

     His hands resumed their movements, tracing reverently over her skin. When he’d explored her sides thoroughly he moved to her stomach, caressing the curve of it. He paused again.

    “Will you lie back for me?” he asked. “I want to see you.”

      Niamh bit her lip and nodded, and he returned one hand to her back to help her lay down slowly. For a moment he simply stared at her, and she could feel her heart speed up uncomfortably.

     “Maker’s breath. You’re so beautiful,” he said. His hands returned to her stomach and caressed her gently, fingers tracing the small scars left behind from puberty. Keeping his eyes on hers to watch for any sign of discomfort he lowered his head and kissed her stomach before letting his hands slide further upwards. They slid to the side again to toy with the edge of her breastband, and when she let out a little gasp he slid them towards the centre to palm her heavy breasts. His thumbs swept over her nipples as he explored and sensation shot through her straight to her core.

     “Do that again,” she pleaded, and Alistair smiled.

     “As you wish,” he said, brushing his thumbs over the sensitive peaks again. She reached up and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her and kissing him hard before releasing him and slowly guiding his mouth towards her still-covered breast.

    “Please,” she whimpered.

     Alistair paused for a moment before lowering his head the short distance to her breast and placing a gentle kiss on the top of it. Niamh’s hand slid into his hair and he smiled against her before kissing a line slowly downwards, traversing the skin before meeting her breastband. He continued down, stopping when he reached her nipple. His tongue darted out and traced a circle around the tight bud before he kissed it through the thin fabric, and Niamh thought she was going to explode from the sensation. Her hand gripped his hair tightly as his lips wrapped over her breast, one hand coming up to cup the other one, squeezing gently. With her free hand Niamh grabbed her breastband and tugged it down, grateful for the first time for its lack of straps. It stuck briefly underneath Alistair’s mouth and he released her, allowing her to tug it fully away from the soft swell of her breasts. When he returned to his ministrations he switched to her other breast, slow licks and light nips causing her back to arch and tiny noises of pleasure escape her mouth. She heard him emit a low groan of his own and she looked down to see his eyes closed, pure joy on his face as he lavished attention on her.

     Soon he moved lower, one hand remaining to cup her full breast, his thumb rubbing small circles over her nipple. He kissed a line downwards towards her bellybutton and over her stomach, placing soft kisses on each stretch mark he could reach, the hand not still on her chest sweeping over her stomach and hips, revelling in the feel of her skin against him. When he reached the waistband of the tight breeches she wore below her armour, he paused, kissing along the skin at the edge of the pants and glancing up at her. She slid the hand not still tangled in his hair down her torso and flipped the fastening of the breeches quickly before nodding at him.

     Urgency coursed through Niamh’s blood as Alistair slowly worked her pants over her hips, tugging them along with her smalls down and off of her legs. The cold air hit her heated core and she whimpered as Alistair slid back up her body. He kissed her hip and across her stomach to her bellybutton again, but one kiss lower and he seemed to lose his nerve. He looked up at her and she could see the nervousness in her eyes. She smiled at him, no longer thinking about her body, and nodded. Alistair moved slowly, kissing lower until he met the patch of soft curls between her legs. He paused again, leaving his lips on her skin as he breathed deeply, the scent of her washing over him like a heat wave. His tongue darted out and slid across her centre slowly, tasting her.

     Niamh gasped and her hips bucked at the contact, pushing his face harder against her. She dropped her hips instantly, blush instantly rising to her cheeks and neck. “Maker, Alistair, I’m sorry, I —”

     He lifted his head to look at her and smiled. “Can I take that as a good sign?” he asked.

     “Yes,” Niamh breathed, unable to restrain the arousal in her voice.

     “Then no apologies necessary, my love,” he said. She could feel him smiling against her when he returned to her core, exploring her wet folds slowly with his tongue. Niamh felt something move beneath her and when she looked, she could see Alistair, still fully clothed, rutting against the bedroll. She untwined her fingers from his hair and grabbed at his shirt, pulling him up to her, and kissed him soundly. She moaned at the taste of herself on his lips, her tongue darting out to trace them.

     “Why am I the only one without clothes, my love?” she asked, one corner of her mouth turned up in a smile. “That hardly seems fair.”

     “Well, we can’t have unfairness towards the lady,” Alistair said, mock gallantry dripping from his voice. “What sort of gentleman would that make me, after all?” He loosed himself from Niamh’s grip and sat up, pulling his loose linen shirt over his head and tossing it aside before setting to work on his trousers. He tugged them, along with his smalls, down over his hips the way he’d done with Niamh’s and crashed to the ground when they tangled around his knees.

     “Maker, Alistair, are you okay?” she asked, stifling a giggle.

     “Reasonably certain I’m going to die of embarrassment, but other than that I’m just fine,” Alistair said, glaring at the offending trousers as he tugged them off the rest of the way and tossed them across the tent. He looked up again to find Niamh staring at him, a look of awe on her face. The blush on his face deepened as he watched her watching him.

     “What?” he asked slowly.

     “I just still can’t believe someone as handsome as you, well…” Niamh started.

     “Finally found his match?” Alistair finished her sentence for her, ignoring the end he knew she’d intended. Niamh dropped her eyes and he moved back towards her on his hands and knees. “Mmm, seems you’ve forgotten,” he said, kissing her lips, “exactly how beautiful,” her neck, “I find you.” Her lips again. “How would you recommend I go about reminding you?” He lifted a hand to her cheek, his thumb stroking along her cheekbone.

     Niamh swallowed hard, the need at her core allowing her only one response. “Make love to me,” she whispered. “Alistair, please.”

     Alistair couldn’t contain his groan when he answered. “As you wish.” He bent to kiss her again and lowered himself carefully on top of her, his erection pressing against her core. It rubbed against her opening, brushing the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top, and she let out an unrestrained moan.

     “The others will hear you, love,” Alistair warned, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke.

     “Let them hear,” she said. “I don’t care anymore, Alistair, I just need you.”

      The desperation in her voice spurred Alistair on and he used one hand to guide himself into her, her slick arousal allowing him to enter her with little resistance. He seated himself fully inside of her and paused for a moment, both of them adjusting to the feel of her surrounding him.

     “Oh, Maker,” Alistair mumbled.

     “Alistair, move. Please. I need —” she was cut short when Alistair thrust against her, slowly on the first thrust but then speeding up, control apparently beyond the ability of his arousal.

     “Shit,” he groaned. “Niamh, I’m sorry. I don’t know how long I’ll…” he trailed off.

     “Me too,” she breathed. One hand slid down her body and she circled her nub frantically, the way she did when she was alone. “Come with me,” she pleaded, as spots clouded her vision and her back arched.

     “Alistair…”

*****

     It was only a few moments later that she came back to herself, Alistair curled around her as she still shook slightly. He pressed his lips to her shoulder.

     “Are you alright, my dear?” he asked.

     “I - yes. I’m sorry,” she said, blushing again. “I didn’t know it could...Maker.”

     Alistair chuckled. “You’ve been talking to him a lot tonight.”

     “Can you blame me?” she asked.

     “Suppose not,” Alistair said. “I can see now why they speak of it so in the Chantry. That was…”

     “Divine?” Niamh said teasingly, giggling.

     “I hope she’s not around,” Alistair said, poking Niamh lightly in the ribs and kissing her again before his face turned serious. “Honestly, though. That was...beyond anything I had ever imagined. I promise to work on my stamina for next time,” he said wryly. “But thank you. And you, my love? Are you...do you understand, now? How much I love you? How I think you are, beyond any shade of doubt, the most beautiful, incredible woman to walk this earth? Simply by virtue of being you?” Concern shone from his face and Niamh felt tears spring to her eyes as she was overwhelmed by emotion. She nodded.

     “I know you feel that way. I’m sorry if it seemed like I doubted you.” She fought to keep her voice steady and hold the tears back.

     “You never need to apologize for your feelings, love.” Alistair stroked a gentle hand over her hair as he leaned forward to kiss her. “But please know that no matter what, no matter how your body may look or change or become damaged in the days to come, none of that will change how I feel about you. How I admire you. How I desire you.” His hand drifted along her side until he found the thick wool blanket that covered them to their thighs. Tugging it up over them, he smiled at her. “Though I certainly don’t mind reminding you of any of those, at any time.”

     Niamh laughed. “You are ridiculous. And beyond words, I love you.”

     “And I you, my dear.” Alistair said, using the hand on her hip to tug her closer to him. She curled into his chest and he smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.


End file.
